There was a time when I was given stars to put into the sky
Each night was a different constellation
One more story for my imagination
Then came a time when I was given less
The stars didn't make a story
Only a mess
The sky was flooded
Bright as day
Then eventually the star-giver went away
Each star started to fade
Till the night came back to stay
I started to make my own stars
Then they popped in
And saw I was writing my own stories
They sat down with a sigh
And held up their pen high
We wrote stories together
And filled up the sky
It was beautiful then and we got rid of the clutter
Maybe this is how it was supposed to be
Working off of one another
A story from here
A story there
A story together
A story of where
We were together working in time
Making the sky beautiful
Being with one another
Was absolutely prime
YOU ARE READING
Poetry
Poezie"Every poem you write should be like someone reading your 'things'. It should be terrifying and incredibly embarrassing. "
